


Coat Closet

by ZhoraKys



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, PWP, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a one-shot for fun, Nathan/Charles smut. And yes, they are in a closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coat Closet

Charles breathed deeply, enjoying the heavy smell of leather coats and old cigarette smoke. The space was cramped, and there was something else - the smell of hair, the sharp staleness of alcohol recently consumed and the animal musk of sweat under freshly laundered clothes. 

His head was spinning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much to drink – but then, memory wasn’t his strong suit at the moment. 

Speaking of strong…

Charles opened his eyes and found himself staring at a large, black form, inches from him. Dared to tilt his head back, just enough to see the tops of broad shoulders, the silhouetted outline of a strong jaw, tendrils of black hair falling just so, brushing against lips… those lips.

Further up. A flash of green in the darkness of the coat closet. 

Desire burned in the pit of his stomach, snaking downward, like something alive. 

A strong hand grabbed him at the elbow and Charles caught himself before he could gasp, instead letting out a slightly girlish sigh. Another hand; his shoulder. The CFO’s fingernails caught a scratch of denim as he dared to grasp at the dark figure, fumbling forward, decreasing the distance between himself and the tall, solid lead singer while something in the far reaches of his brain screamed that this was a bad idea.

The hand that had been on his shoulder was swiftly working its way across and down Charles’ back and only now did he realize he’d left his blazer somewhere.

Still faintly aware of a world outside this closet, he tried to piece together how he’d ended up here. 

It had been his fault. He’d told them he could be a fun guy to pal around with. They were always trying to get him to hang out with them. One stupid slip, one indulgence and he’d undone all that calculated distancing, all that conditioning – they were supposed to see him as their manager, their boss. They weren’t supposed to see this, weren’t supposed to know… 

But he didn’t dare go down that dusty road. 

At the height of his dizziness he saw himself playing with Nathan’s hair and the singer’s increasingly aggressive admonishments that he stop. How mortifying. He could only hope that the band was drunker than he was, that they’d forget this whole thing by morning.

And he should be trying to get out of here – in fact, yes, that was what he’d been doing when he’d stumbled into the coat closet. He’d been flicking through the sea of shapeless black, trying to find his long overcoat so he could call one of the Klokateers and arrange to be picked up. 

But Nathan had followed him here, asking after him… asking if he was alright. He’d turned around said,

“Yes, Nathan, I’m ah, I’m alright. Just… had a little too much to drink is all. My tolerance isn’t as high as … ah, as yours. And the boys’.”

“Mm.”

“Just… just trying to find my, ah, my coat. I think it’s about time I got going… work to do and such.”

“Hey. Charles.”

“Ah… yes Nathan?”

“I’m not gay.”

“Well, I… I never …look I’ve really… had too much…”

“But…”

Charles felt his stomach flip, setting off a chain reaction that sent a bolt of electricity straight into his groin.

Nathan continued. “You were playing with my hair earlier and I… I kind of… I fuckin’ liked it, okay?” Charles swallowed. “But the rest of the guys are out there and if they saw… well, y’know. I don’t wanna look fuckin’ gay in front of the band.”

Frozen to the spot, Charles tried to say something, anything, to agree with Nathan, to set the record straight, but all that came out was “…ah…”

“But we’re alone now. So are you fucking coming on to me, or what?”

Dethklok’s attorney, manager and CFO had all too easily turned toward the shadowy black shape. And now here he was.

His hands moving independent from his muddled brain, pulling with some enthusiasm at Nathan Explosion’s zipper.

As he did so, the strong hands coming together on his back pulled him in… and up. Roughly, Nathan pressed his lips to Charles’ quivering mouth. Charles was almost surprised by how quickly he responded, reciprocating the kiss with previously unknown ferocity. 

It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced, but even he had to admit it had been a while. Managing the world’s largest metal band didn’t leave him much free time, and it wasn’t as if managers had groupies. 

He only realized that his hands were still tugging at the dark-haired man’s zipper when Nathan swatted them away and began to unbutton Charles’ nice, professional white shirt. 

Hands free for the moment, Charles flailed upward to grab Nathan’s t-shirt collar, tugging it off with some help from its wearer. Too late to turn back, screamed that voice, from somewhere in Charles’ mind. He scarcely heard it, as Nathan had backed him into the far wall of the coat closet and was lowering him to the floor, Charles’ knees having apparently given out. 

Another moment and Charles gasped, suddenly thankful for the darkness as he felt all of his blood rushing to his cheeks.

Well… not all of his blood. Otherwise there was no accounting for the raging erection that was now cradled in the hands of the burly death metal vocalist. 

In spite of himself, he let out a squeak as Nathan took his not-diminutive member in his mouth, gently at first, swirling his tongue somewhat inexpertly over the head of Charles’ cock. 

Technique hardly mattered at this point, thought Charles, trying to control the involuntary bucking motion of his hips. His entire body ached for release, by Nathan’s hands or no one’s.

As if on Charles’ command, Nathan suddenly engulfed the smaller man’s entire shaft, pressing the flat of his tongue against Charles’ dorsal vein, then coming up again with just enough suction that Charles was aware of nothing but the pleasant burning in his loins and his fingers, involuntarily grasping for something, anything, to hold on to. 

Nathan seemed to notice and in one swift motion he sank Charles’ cock deep into his mouth, his throat, simultaneously pushing his hands forward, letting his manager grab his thick wrists with slim fingers and squeeze until nails dug into skin. 

Charles felt himself losing control and shuddered as Nathan’s tongue stroked his cock one more time, sending him over the edge in an explosion of heat. Charles bit his lip, tried in vain to stifle a moan as a flash of hot cum shot into the lead singer’s mouth, then, an involuntary hip thrust later, as another spurt hit Nathan squarely in the nose. One final spasm and Charles grunted as if he was lifting something heavy, then slid onto the floor in a panting heap, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. 

His eyes quickly adjusting to the light, the band manager could almost make out the sizeable bulge in the other man’s jeans as he adjusted his glasses. He still hadn’t managed to get that zipper… 

So he was going to try again. With renewed strength he lunged at the vocalist, who was already on his knees. This time, Charles got Nathan’s fly down relatively quickly, and after a moment of fussing with the waistband of his boxers, had freed Nathan’s predictably large dick. 

The singer let out a guttural growl, not unlike those he sometimes used to fill the instrumental portions of Dethklok songs, and pushed Charles’ head roughly down. 

Charles, so used to being in control, was oddly okay with this. 

He let himself savor the salty hint of precum that hit his tongue as he took as much of Nathan as he possibly could in one smooth, fluid motion. Then - wrapping one hand around the base of Nathan’s shaft - he began to slowly pump his mouth and his fist in time, paying attention to every inch of the raven-haired man’s beautiful cock, swirling his tongue with every motion.

Nathan let out another low, predatory sound, and Charles almost laughed - almost giggled, like a damn schoolgirl - as he was reminded of some large animal. A wolf, perhaps. 

Charles felt Nathan’s muscles tensing, a sheen of sweat appearing on the larger man’s exposed hips and midriff. Nathan began thrusting, perhaps involuntarily and perhaps not, but Charles was careful to keep his rhythm, working with the larger man’s spasms rather than against them, increasing his speed. 

Later, both he and Nathan would privately wonder at where he had acquired such technical finesse. 

Concerns for noise all but forgotten, Nathan suddenly grabbed the back of Charles’ head with an amount of reserve that did not go unnoticed, and holding the CFO firmly in place, exploded into his manager’s mouth. Charles allowed himself a moan of delight that came out as more of a gurgle. Freeing himself from Nathan’s still-pulsing cock, he used both hands to deliver one last loving stroke, squeezing any remaining cream out onto his waiting tongue. 

“Uuuugh.” For a moment, both men said nothing. Charles couldn’t tell if Nathan had his eyes open or not as he wiped his mouth and began to look around on the floor for his clothes. 

“Fuck. Charles.”

Charles froze, a semblance of reality coming back to him as the gravity of the situation sunk in. 

“Ah… yes Nathan?”

“That was. Ugh. Fuck. You could give lessons to some of those groupies.”

Charles laughed in spite of himself. “Hm. Noted. …so, ah, I guess we should get back to the boys, eh?”

“You’re not going to tell anybody about this, right?”

“No, no. It’ll be, ah, our… our little secret.”

Nathan let out a gruff sound of approval, then a moment later passed Charles his shirt. 

As they left the closet (allowing enough space between them to diffuse suspicion, though the band’s manager still exited with notably rumpled hair and crooked glasses) Charles noted that they’d made extraordinarily good timing – Toki and Skiwsgaar were headed down the hall toward the coat closet, apparently fetching their jackets to go on a snack run of some sort.


End file.
